


Maybe No One

by halfdecenthumanbeing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/F, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdecenthumanbeing/pseuds/halfdecenthumanbeing
Summary: After conquering Meereen Daenerys has earned many enemies that would do anything to see her dead.The Faceless Men are set on protecting the Breaker of Chains, and so they send someone to protect the Queen and get rid of any threats to her life. Of course, you can guess who they decide to send.This doesn't make any sense and does not fit in canon nor in any other stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkyd7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkyd7/gifts).



> Saw a post on tumblr that applied perfectly to Danarya and this happened. Probably nonsense for everyone who isn't in my head.

It was far easier than she had thought to infiltrate the Queen’s camp and that both worried and amused her. All she had to do was wear a common and pretty face and suddenly no one really saw her. Sure, she had been questioned about her motives and purpose, but after a brief explanation of her oh-so-tragic past (in which her mother had been raped by a southern lord and then proceeded to leave Westeros only to end up as a slave in Mereen and died short before the Queen arrived, while she had been sent to a far land to serve a new master as punishment for her “unacceptable attitude” and had now abandoned her masters to serve the Queen that would make sure her mother was avenged and her story not repeated and blah, blah, blah) and a few more rambled about her dedication to the Queen’s cause, the bored-looking guards let her in after telling her in a very disinterested [ _and rude_ ] voice to make herself useful at training tomorrow and to present herself to the Hand tonight and he would assign her. She supposed they were plenty of people with the same motive she pretended to have. After all, the Dragon Queen  _did_  stop slavery and  _did_  promise that it would not happen again. Still, the fact of being able to be so close to the Queen so easy grated on her nerves because  _of course_  the woman supposed to rule over Westeros  _and_  the Free Cities would be so trusting and have so little security surrounding her, her army and everyone supporting her. And of course  _she_  was the one supposed to change that.

 

The mission had started as a simple one: a death had been requested, and it was to be a brutal one. Easy enough. But the second the Kindly Man heard the name of the target his demeanor changed drastically. He said that this mission was to be rejected, and more importantly, they were to make sure the client didn’t find someone else to take care of it. The House of Black and White had been originally founded by former slaves and the first mission was to get rid of the Masters that had enslaved them in first place, and so no member of The House would ever raise a hand against the Breaker of Chains. And given the fact that in the course of three days several more requests for the same name had been received, all of them offering absurd amounts of gold, it was safe to say that others would not have the same reasons they did to say no and sooner or later one would accomplish the task.

 

And that was how it was decided that they should send someone to make sure the Breaker of Chains lived long enough to end what she started. Since no assassin that could be possibly hired outside The House had a chance against a Faceless Man, it was decided that even a trainee would be enough to stop the possible threats to the Breaker of Chains and that she would be the one sent to protect the Queen. Considering the look Jaqen gave her as she was told, there were more reasons behind their decision, and even when she protested saying that the Lannister that served as the Queen’s Hand was highly intelligent and could recognize her distinctive Stark eyes, she was only given a bag with small pills that would make her eyes brown. She tried to think of any more excuses, but given that she was supposed to be on her way to become no one and leave behind Arya Stark, none would work. She thought there was a hidden scheme that she was not aware of, because Jaqen never made a move without a motive and simply infuriating or testing her wasn’t the only objective of this. He believed he would get something out of this and was using her for his purposes. The thought didn’t bother her as much as would have before, mostly because she had accepted her part on The House, but being left ignorant of something she was supposed to be part of grated on every nerve she had. It made her think of everything that could go wrong because she didn’t know what to expect except a barely grown woman playing to be some kind of Savior Queen and the men and women sent to kill her she was supposed to stop. Now that was something she could handle: death had become her most trustworthy companion and violence she understood and knew how to use to her advantage ( _and others_ ).

 

She had visited many lands and traveled further than she had ever imagined but wherever she looked, violence stayed the same. One of the only constants left in her life, along with “You are alone”, “You can only trust yourself” and “There’s no reason to be afraid” ( _Fear cuts deeper than swords_ ). Her obvious affinity with violence and blood had earned her various nicknames she tried to ignore (and their implications) but that resounded in her ears at night.

 

Even now, walking around camp and getting closer to the Queen with each step, she could only sigh because  _of course they would send a Stark to protect a Targaryen_. And in top of that, she was the  _Last_  Targaryen. She quickly dismissed these thoughts and remembered that she was now Arice Waters and was here to serve the Queen.  _At least that part is true_ , she thought.

 

There were a couple hours left until she had to present herself to the Hand and be assigned to what would be her job until her mission ended, so she decided to put her plans to work. Befriend people and get information never hurt anyone, especially if it helped her get a position that would make her immediate future easier. Had it been possible, she would have tried to form a “bridge” with Tyrion Lannister himself, but she had seen him enter what she supposed was his tent with two beautiful women not even half an hour ago. There also was the fact that her sister had been forced to marry him and then went missing not much later, so she wasn’t sure how she would react to him, especially if he tried to make a move on her. Which, considering her current appearance, would be understandable: her hair was still brown, but a much lighter tone than her own and closer to a dirty blond than to the dark hair most northerns had. The face she wore had belonged to a girl a few years older than her and had a common beauty: soft skin, plump lips and big, dark eyes with long lashes, the kind  that could entice any man she wanted but would not make her stand out or cause a lasting impression.

 

She continued to ponder this as she interacted with as many people she could without seeming suspicious. The first men she interacted with were simple soldiers that gave her a brief resume of how they ended serving the Queen. Such a surprise, all of them had been slaves themselves, loved slaves or lost someone to slavery. The second group was composed by young Dothraki that couldn’t have been more infatuated with their Khaleesi. They talked about her all time and told the story of how she became the Mare That Mounts the World (she still couldn’t picture this Targaryen girl eating a horse’s heart, burning people alive, making dragons hatch from ancient eggs using her husband’s funeral pyre and getting her a brother killed by said husband, but if a Stark could leave everything she used to be and have behind, including family and honor, anything was possible) but weren’t of much use except for repeating the same stories over and over again. She was thinking who she would talk to next when she saw the Imp walking towards the tent in the middle of the camp and deduced he would assign positions now. As she walked at a slow but sure pace towards the tent, a boy not more than a few years older than her passed running by her side and promptly fell in front of her. As he got up and dusted his clothes off he seemed to notice her and his dark eyes seemed to light up. Faster than she had expected he was right next to her and introducing himself:

 

"Hi! I’m Kuzon. Are you new here? Because I am! My Khal surrendered to the Khaleesi past week so I just arrived. Did you come with someone too? What’s your name?"

 

As he talked she examined him. He had black hair as most Dothraki, but his skin was lighter than theirs and his eyes were a green she had never seen in one of them. He also spoke the common tongue with no foreign inflection, so he probably was a bastard whose Dothraki father agreed to take care of. It was uncommon but not completely unheard of if they thought the kid had talent, but this Kuzon seemed too lively and innocent, even more compared to his fellows, but it would be beneficial to her cover to at least seem somewhat integrated and he was harmless enough to her plan and could probably help her gather information from the Dothraki, so she decided to play along. 

 

"Yes, I’m new. I’m Arice, and I just arrived today. Alone. In fact, right now I’m heading to the Big Tent so the Hand can assign me to my new position"

 

The boy- Kuzon, she corrected herself- only seemed to get even more excited as he heard her.

 

"Oh, I am too! We can walk together! I was sick when my Khalasar was assigned so I will be assigned today. I felt terrible and couldn’t be examined but now I feel so much better and I will start working right away. I hope they don’t assign me something too boring; I am a very active person. But I can do a little bit of everything, so I’m sure they will find something I can help with that doesn’t require me to be too still. What would you prefer to do? By the way, have you heard already? We are so lucky! The others were assigned by the Hand and the Counselors, but today the Queen is going to be there. They say sometimes she even talks to the newcomers and decides their positions herself. Can you imagine?"

 

They had already started walking as he spoke, so when he finally shut up and she had processed his words, they were standing almost in the entrance to the tent. If the Queen was there, she would have to start playing nicer than usual. It would be no use if the woman she was supposed to protect hated or ignored her so much she couldn’t even be close to her. Now, how would she present and make herself useful without revealing her identity and purpose? There had to be a way, but she thought she would have more time before being presented to the Queen. She had thought of an introduction that would call the Imp and the counselor’s attention but she was not ready to confront the Targaryen girl, whose would supposedly be harder to impress and would have little to no interest on of the… assets that were meant to help her convince the Lannister to keep her close.

 

_Damnit Jaqen, why did you have to send me? If you were so decided to keep her alive, why not send someone more skilled? To what point am I going to have to live this cover? Well, there’s only one way to know. Get it over with._

 

With that thought and a smile towards Kuzon, she walked to the line in front of the tent and waited for her turn. After what seemed like a year she felt a small nudge in her arm and saw Kuzon smiling nervously and signaling her something. With surprise, she noticed she was the next. Then a guard briefly exited the tent and gestured herself to follow him inside. Again she felt Kuzon squeezing her arm, this time reassuringly, and walked into the tent.

 

_Inhale, Exhale. I am Arice Waters. Inhale, Exhale. I am here to serve the Queen and get revenge for my mother. Inhale, Exhale. I will protect her with my life. Inhale, Exhale. She cannot know who I am. Inhale, Exhale. I have to leave Arya Stark behind. Inhale, Exh-_

 

"You, don’t I know you? Step closer and let me see your face, girl"

 

The Imp. It’s impossible he recognizes me, so why-

 

"Now, Tyrion, where are your manners? This is not the moment. Please, girl, come closer and tell us: who are you and why are you here?"

_Her voice is far stronger and deeper than I imagined-_

 

_Not the time. I will deal with the Imp later. Now the function begins._

 

Slowly the girl that called herself Arice stepped further into the tent and raised her head to look at the woman sitting in the throne right in front of her. She could see the Hand sitting in another throne slightly to the Queen’s right and looking straight at her. No trace of doubt left in her mind, the girl opened her mouth and started talking.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arice tries to think of something and fails spectacularly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse except finals, anxiety and depression.

“My name is Arice Waters, and I have spent the last years of my life chasing either justice or revenge. If you allow me to join your army, Khaleesi, I know I will get both.”

 

The Queen sat forward slowly and, with a strange gleam in her eyes, asked:

 

“That seems a bit too confident, don’t you think? But tell me, _Waters_ , what brings a Westerosi so full of herself to _my_ camp? Surely you would be able to get revenge closer to your home, or do you need to join an army to do that?”

 

Her tone was carefully measured, a mix of honest curiosity, bitter disbelief and what seemed resignation, showing she was used to listening to her subjects, that she cared, but giving the impression that she already heard everything there was to hear.

 

That tone meant trouble to Arice, for not any story would make the Queen react.

 

_That won’t do. Maybe thinking I had no doubts left was an exaggeration. Think fast, I must convince her I am of use to her, but how? I would need to form a relationship of sorts, establish a bond with her. If I could make her respect me, relate to me, she would be much more inclined to keep me around, close to her where I could complete my mission. My previous story won’t be strong enough…. I should have known, but now I don’t have time to make up a new one. What shall I do?_

 

_I need to move her, I need to convince her._

 

An idea started to take form in her mind, and despite not being the ideal solution and far too risky to be considered acceptable to the Faceless Men, it could work. And now that was all that mattered.

 

_Maybe if it works, Jaqen won’t kill me. But if I say too much, I might not make it back to Jaqen… I will need to be as careful as at the House and Harrenhal, if not more. I won’t say nothing more than necessary. Here I’m surrounded by enemies._

 

“It’s not as much confidence or being full of myself as it is assurance. You, my Queen, are the promise and hope to end the evil that corrupts the Seven Kingdoms”

 

Tyron, who had been simply observing until then, interrupted:

 

“We are aware of that, _girl_ , but the Queen asked you more questions. And” he held up his hand, motioning Arice to wait when she opened her mouth to talk “don’t believe saying your name is enough introduction. The Waters name brings more questions than answers”

 

_I must not hurt him, but how good would his tongue look on the floor, right beside his dwarf head and those dirty hands. Let’s see how he touches another maiden again and takes her as his wife this time-_

 

_No, I am Arice Waters, and I have no quarrel with Tyrion Lannister._

 

She carefully took a deep breath, but when she saw the look the Queen shot him sideways she bit back a smirk. Reading herself, she looked to the Imp for a moment, before she looked to the Queen again, knowing she wouldn’t be able to say some things while looking at him and not give herself away.

 

“To answer my Queen’s questions, revenge is easier to get as _part_ of an army. Especially when those you want to take revenge on are far too many and far too powerful for just one girl. And to answer Lord Lannister, he must know I don’t have many of those answers myself. I was born in a big family, and I didn’t care about blood. My mother was strict but loving, the man we called father kind but strong, and my siblings were a hurricane. We were as different to each other as you could imagine, but we were happy. Until a man came into our home and decided he had the _right_ to do whatever he wanted with us just because of his _name_ and _position_. He took my father first, and without him we fell apart. My mother and older brother went looking for him, and I never saw them again. My best friends all left me, either by death or distance. My sister and younger brothers went missing, and we all know what happens to beautiful girls and little boys when they get lost. I got lost too, but I was too young and not beautiful enough to be noticed, so I _ran_ and _hid_ and _survived_.”

 

The last past sounded tired and so depreciating even Arice winced at saying it, but continued talking nonetheless, too worked up to waste the raw emotion that dripped from her every word. It hurt: saying such things, saying too much and not enough at the same time, but right now it was her best chance to convince the Queen and her Hand. She would do whatever it took to complete a mission, had done it before, so _talking_ shouldn’t shake her this much, and yet here she was, trembling with pain and fury as images flashed behind her eyelids. She already knew she wouldn’t be getting any rest soon.

 

“I tried looking for my family, but the only thing I found were gravestones or bones” (the people of Winterfell had buried Bran and Rickon’s mutilated bodies at the first chance they had, but no statues would be added to the crypt anytime soon), “piles of rotten corpses, abandoned without care, or empty paths and no way to follow” (Father’s head in a stake, Nymeria finding Mother’s nude and rotten body in the river, Robb’s body with Grey’s head sewn into it. Sansa, who vanished into thin air, Jon in the Wall with his new family). “And I might not know who took my family, so I will make everyone who ever did anything like it to _anyone_ pay for their crimes. It won’t bring them back, but it will prevent many others of going through the same.” Alice stopped to calm herself before she said something too revealing and noticed she had tears prickling her eyes and her throat felt scratchy from containing the growls and screams that had been restrained for too long. She quickly breathed in and controlled herself before a treacherous tear dared to spill. “But obviously, I could not do that alone and there are far too many powerful people who would do it again the second the ones before them stopped. What is needed is a permanent solution. A new regime would do that, a new rulership: someone who didn’t tolerate injustice and cared for every member of their reign, who wouldn’t allow such things to happen anymore and would punish anyone who dared to abuse their power. And there was no one like that left in Westeros. That’s why I am here, **_My Queen_** ”

 

Without noticing, Arice had been staring at her clenched fists, but then she raised her head and looked pointedly at Tyrion before sliding her gaze to the Queen and intently locking her eyes with hers. It wasn’t the most respectful of interactions, she knew she could (and should) be punished for being so blunt and disrespectful to a Queen, but she didn’t care right now. She wanted to make her _understand_. Because this might be a mission, and she might have been incredulous only a few hours ago, but she had seen the way everyone talked about their Khaleesi, the infatuation and blind faith as obvious she had expected. What had surprised her was the respect and fear she heard in whispered tales. Tales of how she had punished her own Dothraki when they raped innocents, how she had slaughtered a man for every children she found dead, how she had her husband kill her brother when he tried to _subdue_ her. Tales of how she rode off in the back of a black nightmare when they tried to kill her and came back with fire for her enemies and freedom for her allies. Tales of how she traded all the Unsullied for one of her dragons and then had them kill their previous owners and got her dragon back without even a scratch. Tales of having Ser Barristan Selmy as her protector and, apparently, her sword teacher. Tales of how she had her second husband killed when he turned out to be just another power-hungry leech. Tales of she did what had to be done, no matter the cost.

 

And Arice had not believed it. At least, not all of it, since they were tales and not stories, and everyone knows most tales like that were mostly exaggeration with a pinch of truth on it. Until she saw the myth with her own eyes. A girl barely a few years older than Arice was supposed to be and just an inch taller, sitting in a simple throne, wearing plain Dothraki robes and with her hair in a single braid. No crown, no sword, no fancy ornaments, no dragons in sight: she should have looked like the child playing castle that Arice had been expecting. And yet, she irradiated an aura of unmistakable power. A long time ago, a young girl who used to read stories of the ancient Targaryen assumed their power came from their dragons, the magnificent beasts able to destroy towns and castles without effort.

But now there were no dragons in the room and she believed she understood those stories anyways. How her body froze upon maintaining eye contact with the other woman, every nerve of her body burning, urging her to either leave and not come back or drop to her knees and beg for her life. An irrational fear gripped her tight and, for a second, she was tempted to give in.

 

_Fear cuts deeper than swords, the truth she carried like an armor_

 

This was nothing compared to what she had already been through.

 

_Jaqen looking down at her after she gave in to her emotions once again, telling her if she couldn’t hope to be no one as long as she couldn’t even control what was left of her._

 

Another bar added to her mental cage, trying to hide the broken pieces of Arya Stark and keep them from spilling.

 

_The Kindly Man, smiling at her a few days later, telling her she had been chosen for a mission she could benefit from. His eyes when she tried to not react when he informed her exactly where she was being sent, knowing and firm, silently challenging her to prove him wrong._

 

The cold feeling that washed trough her, knowing this was a test she couldn’t afford to fail.

 

_How she had spent most of the trip trying to get a grip on her thoughts and feelings and threw them to the deepest part of her mind. How she elaborated a weak identity and fooled herself in believing she had this under control._

 

Thinking she could act like there was nothing different about this mission.

 

And now everything was shattered, her previous plan was too weak and useless, thoughts and memories Arice Waters shouldn’t have were whirling through her mind faster than she could properly process them. And while she was looking straight to the Queen’s eyes, she realized why she was so altered about this mission. At some point, she had started to hope. Hope to go back, to see everything change. It was just the slightest tiny bit of hope, but she had long ago discarded that feeling and it took her by surprise. In a second, she knew why that was a problem: she felt more like Arya Stark than she had since arriving to Braavos, and the cage she had carefully placed around her blurred for a moment.

 

Rationally, she knew it hadn’t been long, but with every part of her fighting herself and determined to maintain her façade intact, time seemed to stretch for eternity, until something changed in the Queen’s eyes, and suddenly Arice found herself free of the invisible grip and burning sensation. Not showing any reaction, she observed the looks exchanged between between the Imp and the Khaleesi. The first appeared vaguely curious but mostly bored and resigned, while the latter looked almost smug, a dry smile on her lips and a knowing look on her eyes, eyebrow slightly raised.

 

“You are quite intense and I am definitely interested in your reasons to join me, but tell me: how exactly do you think you can fight for me?”

 

That was an easy question.

 

“My Queen, no one can travel through the wars in Westeros and arrive here without knowing how to fight, and doing it well. I followed a man for a long time, and, disguised as a boy, he taught me how to win, no matter what it took.”

 

Before anyone else could say anything, it was Tyrion who asked the next question

 

“And tell me, Waters, how many men have you killed? And more important, how many more are you willing to kill?”

 

The tone was teasing, but his eyes were serious, so she was as truthful as she could.

 

“Not one more than I had to, but some days I had to kill to survive”

 

His eyes turned slightly more stony than before, but his face softened somehow.

 

“And here was I thinking you were just another pretty face”

 

He smiled and Arice made a point of not showing any response. His smiled widened at that, and the Queen spoke before he could.

 

“We’ll find something for you to do. You can leave now, but report to Lord Tyrion’s tent tomorrow at sunrise.”

 

As two of the guards that had been standing against the wall moved to escort her out of the tent, she couldn’t stop from being surprise about the overall outcome of the day. She had been expecting more of a reaction, after what she had said. The bait had been perfectly placed: the exact amount of information that the Queen could relate to and feel pity about, a face close enough to her age so she could see herself reflected, showed enough spirit to not be easily forgotten, and, more importantly, Arice _knew_ her eyes had changed for a moment when talking about her past. They had been Arya Stark’s eyes, even through the brown that hooded them: steeled determination, boiling fury, animalistic blood-thirst and broken honor that didn’t belong to a common bastard, no matter their story. She was aware the pills could have flukes against great emotional outbursts that messed with the chemical composition of them, so it was a great possibility that her eyes shone grey for a moment, especially when she made eye contact with the Targaryen and her whole body answered for her.

 

She kicked herself mentally, because that was not how it should have went at all.

 

_A real Faceless Man would have entered, and would have made themselves necessary to the Queen, and she would not even realize. Instead, I made a fool of myself by using emotions that I shouldn’t have and tried appealing to hers. I let myself forget I was Arice Waters for a moment and I dared to feel hope, of all things! I am No One, I only serve the Many-Faced God and I have no family to care about or avenge. I must be a tool, allowing myself to be used. And yet, I failed what should be a simple mission to any member of the House. I bet even the novices would have done better! And looking to the Queen’s eyes, such foolishness!She could have been kicked out for such disrespect, had the Queen been any different. And if her or the Imp had seen her eyes, even for a moment… that would change everything. The Last Targaryen was so because she left Westeros as a babe and so wouldn’t be able to recognize a Stark, but a Lannister was very different. He had been to Winterfell, had met Lords and Ladies Stark from before she was born. He talked to her father, to Jon and to herself once. He had a prodigious memory and said to never forget a face._

 

By this point she had already arrived to the tent she was supposed to share with a bunch of other newcomers, and seeing she was alone, grabbed the pack with the few belongings she was supposed to have and dragged it to the closest corner to the entrance, close enough to get out fast, far enough to not be targeted first in case of attack, and not enough distance to the other mats in the floor to be questioned about it. Once she quickly assessed the possible exits and dangers, she laid down on her mat and closed her eyes, thinking again about her situation.

 

_If the Imp recognized me, it would have showed. Had my eyes changed, there would have been a reaction, and there was none. My act was a weak one, and it was stupid, but I have been convoked to the Queen’s Hand tent tomorrow, so maybe I can still salvage this mission without recurring to more drastic measures. It wouldn’t be too hard to steal the face of someone already close to the Queen, but it would be preferable to create myself a position where I could use my abilities without raising questions. It is obvious I have too many pieces left of Arya Stark for truly being a Faceless, but maybe in this mission I can get rid of some. Arya Stark would not be able to stand so close to a Lannister without killing him, or to serve a Targaryen, but I am not and will never be Arya Stark again. I am Arice Waters, a dirty bastard skilled enough to travel through wars and spill blood without blinking, and I am here to take the Breaker of Chains to the Iron Throne and ensure every abuser is punished, no matter their position. I have no family left, no reason to care about anything else._

 

Even in her head sounded weak, but she threw an arm over her eyes, focused on keeping her breath steady and focused the sounds coming from outside the tent. At some point, she heard some voices at the entrance, debating between entering or going looking for something, and was silently thankful when the voices moved further and further away. What she did not hear was anyone warning about wild animals in the proximity or any talk about wolves wandering around.

 

And yet, she heard howls in the distance, felt cold air biting against her skin, and then she felt herself howl, adrenaline and hunger pumping through her body, while she was laying down in a rusty mat, heat all around her, having fed enough to be satisfied until the next morning, her mouth closed and no sound coming out.

 

She sighed and got up. She hoped it would stop once she left Braavos and got away from the House, but the howls kept sounding, and the strange feelings and sensations kept coming. But she had been able to keep it from Jaqen and the Waif, she could handle it for as long as it lasted.

 

_If I only could ignore where it comes from, and what it means. Wolves have nothing to do with a Faceless Man, nor with Arice Waters, but they keep calling for Arya Stark, and the cage shakes every time I ignore them. But I will not let some sounds keep me from doing what I have to do._

 

Checking her knives and poisoned needles were still hidden in her body, she grabbed a larger knife and her short sword, hiding the rest of the important or secret possessions in a small hole below her mat. Quickly, covering it with dirt and the mat itself, she readied herself to go out. It would be impossible to sleep in her state, and maybe she could get some more information about what would happen in the Imp’s tent before tomorrow. If not, maybe she could start to build herself a stronger identity. Acquaintances and allies were always useful in a new place, and you can learn even from enemies, and I will achieve nothing by sitting in an empty tent, meditating in my failures and problems.

 

_Whatever, Jaqen and the Faceless had to have their reasons to send me here, and he must have known I was not ready for it, so I can only keep my eyes open and try again tomorrow._

 

With that thought, she exited the tent and followed the whispers of ‘celebration’ she heard. Drunk people are talkative people, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a tumblr post and this happened, sorry not sorry.  
> I'm making this a gift for starkyd7 because Allegiance was the very first Stargaryen/Danarya fic I ever read and it made me want to write (something I'm still working on, as you might be able to deduce from this fic)


End file.
